


An Unwarranted Sense of Importance, or How Cable Fixed the World

by Squidink



Series: Messiahs and other disasters [1]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: AU, Enema of the State AU, Gen, telekinetic fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-27
Updated: 2009-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidink/pseuds/Squidink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cable saves the world, and the world objects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unwarranted Sense of Importance, or How Cable Fixed the World

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the 'Enema of the State' AU, and a re-work of an old story.

Providence was silent.  
  
It was the first thing Wade noticed, stepping off his little puttering boat and onto the dock.   It caught him off guard despite, in fact, knowing exactly what it was he was walking into.  People like him didn’t get called in if things hadn’t gone all belly-up.  
  
This wasn’t his Providence; Providence was noise, and purpose, and annoyingly intellectual isolationists full of self-important gobbledygook and unfortunate gastrointestinal issues.  
  
But now… nothing, zilch, nada, nil, zip.  His every footfall came down like a rock down a well.  It was so _flat,_ so clean and gleaming and perfect.  A movie set dressed and abandoned.  He had never noticed how the streets wove and turned with an almost organic touch, how well they directed his feet.  The arterial nature of the layout.  How the emptiness was magnified by their convivial meandering path, by the small sad flower pots sitting beside worn benches.  Even the air felt intrusive, each breath sitting heavy on his tongue and sinking straight to the bottom of his lungs.  It fizzed up through his guts and made the insides of his ears ache like they were gonna pop.  The further he got along, the more it coiled in, humid and tight and smotheringly thick.  It reminded him distantly of drowning in a warm bath, or something weirdly embryonic. It made him feel—off.   Well.   More than usual, in any case.  
  
He had to hand it to Nate; the prick had style. It was all very _Twilight Zone_ ; very atmospheric, maybe even what could be called classic.  
  
Wade didn't bother skulking through the shadows: Nate knew he was here.  Hell, the jerk had let Wade in through his telekinetic barrier even though he must have _known_.  Nate had to have seen Wade hop off the SHIELD transporter, watched him putter up in his dumb little dinghy, happy as you please.  It was obvious why Wade was here, stupidly obvious, but still no resistance, no fight, no charmingly sociopathic banter.  It put Wade’s hackles up.  After all, Nate had never shied away from sending Wade on a one-way trip into orbit whenever he stepped all over the messiah-wanna-be headtrips before.  
  
And, of course, the streetlights clicked on as he passed, otherworldly and blue, leading in a straight line to Nate’s front door.  They threw his shadow up on all sides, tall as giants, and felt cold.  
  
Wade hummed the theme from _X-Files_ under his breath, just to be an ass.  
  
He supposed it was a bit of an insult and a privilege to be ignored.  Providence was impregnable, a fortress unto itself, sliced off from the world it was creeping over.  Nate had not hesitated in the slightest to send Captain America and the Avengers flying as soon as they came in range, again and again and _again_ on televisions the world over.  He had rebuffed every confused world leaders’ shouts of consternation; had thrown the finest fighter jets the world had to offer like paper balls; and missiles quite simply disappeared, leaving nothing but thin trails of smoke.  All while people from every corner of this unhappy earth slid into that net of expectant hushed stillness, waiting _._ But _Wade_ was welcome, because Wade was a good boy and refrained from tossing grenades at the civilians, and _Wade_ wouldn't just up and shoot Nate in the head just because Nick Fury asked real nice and there were a hell of a lot of zeros on that check.  Oh, my, no.  
  
There were two Cables in his life, and only one had Nick-at-Nite and Bea Arthur.  It wasn't really a contest.  
  
Pulling his face into a grin as he reached the top of the stairs, only a hallway away from Nate's personal balcony, Wade cocked his rifle – “satisfaction guaranteed” – over one shoulder and drew in a deep breath.  
  
"Oh Priiiissy, I'm ho-ome!"  
  
He paused, ready for the psychic backlash, or an explosion centering on his skull, or just a little gruff laugh, slipped out before Nate could help himself.   In keeping with the theme, nothing happened.  The lights remained blue, the walls didn't move, and Wade was left standing like the odd dork out at prom.  His trigger finger twitched.  This wasn’t how this played out.  He wasn't going to just turn around and go home because they'd taken a few hits for each other.  Wade knew right from wrong – most of the time – and this was, he was at least eighty-three percent certain, somewhat strongly in the category of wrong.  What is megalomania, Alex, for two hundred.

Wade casually strolled to Nate's room, shoving the door aside with a roll of his shoulder, finger slipping to the trigger mostly by habit.  The room was just disappointingly normal; still orderly, organized with charming anal retentiveness, the little knick-knacks and scattered curios sitting idle in their cabinets.  Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, no looming super computers or test-tubes of dubious nature or even a good old fashioned glowing portal.   Just as dull as Wade remembered, when he cared to think about it.  

The balcony doors were open, the curtains flapping gently in the breeze, bringing in the salty stink of the sea.  Wade swallowed around a weird lump in his throat – that damn smell, he hated it, that was all, really – and called again.  “Nate?  Natey-poo?  Nate-oh-nana-bo-fana-fee-fi-fo-fana?”

There was a subtle, pinging vibration, a distinct warble unique to telekinetics the world over, and Wade felt a great deal of weighty attention suddenly placed upon him.  It was, he imagined, what it would be like to walk through jello, minus the sweet sugary deliciousness and suffocation.  A nervous chill tingled through the pads of his fingers, an almost electrical urge to shoot first and ask questions later.   Wade shook it off, forcing his hips into an exaggerated swagger, stepping out like there was not something terribly fucked up about this whole _thing_. “Oh, Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do.”

“Wade.” Ah, there it was, Nate’s little dry chuckle.  Wade knew it was around here somewhere. “I'm glad you're here for this.”

Craning back his head, Wade watched Cable descend from on high, wreathed in light.  A fresh sheen of sweat glistened on his bare chest, a testament to effort and so disappointingly human.  He landed delicately – the show off – eyes tracking over Wade fondly.  Nate’s little smile was profoundly weary, but it brightened up his whole face.  He reached out like he might have put his hand on Wade's shoulder but thought better of it, turning instead to the sea, and the hulking ships that swayed in the distance.  They looked like toys, out there.  Small and unimportant.  Wade barely spared them a glance, every part of him strained to attention toward Cable.

Nate looked proud, folding his hands behind his back and standing at the railing, watching the SHIELD helicarrier hover out over the assembled navies of the world, impotent as the clouds.   The waves below kicked up higher, white foam striking against the telekinetic barrier. “It's going to be beautiful.”

Wade didn't follow after him. “Yeah, 'bout that,” he began, with enough cheek to make it seem like situation normal. “Guys up top aren't too happy with the whole Rule the World shtick. And, jeez, Nate, I thought you had some class! You could at least try something original.  Like taking over Wisconsin.  Nobody wants Wisconsin anyways.” He made himself grin, shrugging like it didn't matter. “Heck, I'll help you.

Nate’s smile cut deeper into his cheeks, and he shook his head, indulgent. “I don’t want to rule the world.”  His back seemed bizarrely vulnerable, for all its bulk.  The technorganic blended unnaturally with trembling, fallible flesh, made him seem cracked down the middle.   Wade made himself look anyways.

“Oh, well, then, that’s alright.” Wade rolled his eyes pointlessly. “Lemme just text the guys so they can all go home now.   Wow, you really got us good.”  To think, he could be watching _Teen Mom_ right now.

“They sent you to stop me,” Nate said, nodding to himself. He sounded… worn-out?  Annoyed?  Uncertain? It was always hard to tell which was which when Nate went and got his head all inflated.

“Yup,” Wade said brightly, despite an overwhelming urge to punch Nate in the face, and lifted his rifle in a gesture that was just on this side of threatening. “Getting paid time and a half for this little fiasco.  But I figure, I'll give you the benefit of a doubt and let you come quietly.  So, why don't you just be a pal and put all those shields down before I start breaking heads?”

Nate didn't seem inclined to hear him, contemplatively tilting his head to glance at Wade over his human shoulder. “I'm surprised they can’t see what I am doing is the only way, the _right_ way.  I told them, I explained, but they attacked me.  I had expected better of them.” He turned his face back out to sea.  “It is… disappointing.”

“They're Avengers.  It's what they do.” The rifle edged up, seemingly of its own accord, the butt coming to rest on Wade's shoulder. “Come on, Nate.  Quit it.”

“They’re _supposed_ protect the world.  They should be on my side.” Nate bowed his head, hurt of all things, and braced his hands on the railing.  His alien eye flared bright, presenting a taunting, tempting target to the far flung ships.  SHIELD and co were all probably watching, with spy satellites and snipers and good old fashioned binoculars.  Their attention was a weight Wade couldn't shake. After all, it wasn't every day Captain freaking America and his merry band asked you to go save the earth from what may or may not be your best bud.   Oh, yeah, no pressure.

“I suppose it was to be expected, with their linear thinking.  Their opposition is ultimately of no great concern.”

Wade’s skull ached more with each word, every muscle seeming to draw tight.  It was hard to focus at the best of times, so that probably wasn’t saying much.  His center of balance slipped, and Nate, ever the gentleman, caught him with telekinesis.   It was like a friendly, impossibly strong hand soothingly pressed between his shoulder blades.  It was kinder than Wade wanted, at the moment, and he shrugged it off violently, skin prickling with phantom warmth.   He felt heavy, and slow, all his blood flowing the wrong way.  He wondered if Nate did it on purpose or if he just couldn’t help himself with broken things.

“I _am_ right.”

Wade snorted, shaking off his discomfort as best he could, and stalked around behind Cable's back, something half-formed and dangerous in the way he moved.  “Hate to break it to ya, bud, but as of the moment you're public enemy number one.  And, much as your mug shot amuses me, I hate playing second fiddle.  Your little temper tantrum is making a lot of folks real antsy.  I'm only gonna say this once: stop dicking around and back off before this gets ugly.”

Nate seemed honestly surprised, turning on his heel to face Wade.  He held out both hands, to embrace or protest or plead, eyes unbearably pained.  Nate spoke with a softness that was all wrong: “Don't you understand?  I'm saving the world.”

Something brushed Wade's temple gently, more a suggestion of a touch than anything, as insubstantial as thought.  Sly as a knife between the ribs, that familiar, sharp ache rose up in Wade's mind again, and he _knew_.

Wade skipped back, rifle snapping up, his eye lining with the scope, dead center on Nate's glowing eye, easy as you please.  Everything was screwed to hell and back, and here he was, stuck in the middle.  “Stop it.” Wade took a short, shallow breath.  “I'm not stupid, Nate.  I mean, I'm stupid, but I'm not _stupid_.”

A tense moment came and went, and Nate's expression twisted. 

“It already worked for Providence.  Is it so wrong to want peace?  To make everyone happy?  To make everything better?  I only have to push them a little, make them see it, then they will only do what is natural.” Agitated, Nate ran a hand through his hair with shaking fingers, looking away.  He was tired.  No, scratch that, he was exhausted.  The idiot had pushed himself to his power threshold, and then some.  Wade had always been good at reading people, and Nate knew it, and wasn’t that the rabbit hole?  What was and wasn’t true was always a subjective question when Cable was involved.  Was it manipulation if you didn’t even notice you were doing it?

It wasn’t his power that made Nate dangerous.  It was his sense of kindness.

Collecting himself, Nate rubbed his T-O arm, like it was a wound or something to be placated. “We were on the brink of war.  I am merely averting disaster.  I am right.  Why can't you understand that?”

“See, it's that 'make' word I'm having the problem with.  You can't _make_ the world do anything,” Wade said from behind the cold comfort of a gun.  Every particle of his being felt like it was winding toward the barrel, the bullet lodged so safe and snug.  Just pull the trigger, to just get it over with, let the chips fall.  But he didn’t.  The _I can’t let you_ stuck in his throat, right behind the _please, stop_.

The problem was that Nate was good at reading people, too.  If Wade was going to take the shot, he would have already done it.

Cable smiled.

“Can’t I?” The glow around Nate intensified, and he drifted upward, above Wade and Providence and anything approaching morality.  He spun, slow and inevitable, to face out into the world, the terrible world he was making and _why wasn't Wade shooting yet_?  The air around them shivered, crackling with energy.  The ships on the horizon began rocking back and forth, heaving desperately against the ocean.

“Get down, Nate.”  This was way above Wade’s pay grade.  He wasn’t— he was a second stringer, at best.  How was he supposed to talk down Cable, of all people?  Wade could barely motivate _himself_ off the couch most days.

Nate glanced down at him, his smile paternal and patronizing. “Why?”

“Get down, goddamnit!” Wade’s finger squeezed down on the trigger – not enough, not _enough_ – his entire arm shaking, and, God, if Nate didn't stop it, stop this bullshit right now, he was going to—to—

“Are you going to shoot me?  You'd have to kill me.  I'm not sure if you can.”

“What do you—” Wade broke off, breathing hard.  Just a little more pressure and… what?  Watch the bullet bounce off of Nate like a putz?  Did Nate have a shield up around himself?  Or was he already pushed to his absolute limits, would he go down like any other mark?  Either way was a lose-lose, no matter how he spun it, and Wade hated it when things couldn't be solved with a slug to the head and a witty one-liner. “This isn't right.”

“Isn't it?” Cable convulsed, grimacing, before forcing that small, oh-so-superior curve back to his lips. “Providence was the small-scale, the test run.  I am confident I can do this.  All the world needs is a guiding hand.  It has the potential to be perfect.”

“Whose hand?  Your hand?  What makes you so qualified?” Giving up the ghost, Wade let his rifle fall down to his side, bringing his free hand up to point accusingly. “I don't see you sporting a résumé with 'upper management skills' on it.”

“I know what the world needs,” Cable said, licking his dry and cracked lips.  His human skin prickled with goosebumps, and the technorganic flesh shook and warped strangely with the strain of it.  He was so powerful, too powerful for his own good.

“No, you don't.  Nobody does.  That’s the point.  You can't save the world like this.  It's not— it's not supposed to be like— it's not gonna work.”

Hissing through his gritted teeth, Cable made a curt gesture, a flick of his fingers, and abruptly Wade was in the air, feet kicking uselessly for the ground.  Goddamn telekinetics.  “Please, don't try to play at ethics now, Wade.  It doesn’t suit you at all.” The rifle floated from Wade’s clutching hands, spinning gently away before dropping to the balcony below.  “You've never been so concerned before, and you of _all_ people know what it's like out there.  How bad it has gotten.  How bad it has always been.  Are you saying world peace is so terrible?  Helping people to better themselves?  Ending prejudices?”

“No— yes!  Not like this!  The world's just fine all back asswards.  If it ain't broke, don't fix it!” Wade shook his head, helpless.  He didn’t know how to say it; it wasn’t supposed to fall to people like him.  “People—you can’t fix them.  They can’t be perfect.  Sometimes things are just wrecked right from the get-go.”  His head was heavy again.  It was all—muddled.  Wrong.  Like somebody was rearranging the furniture in his head just when he had gotten it all how he wanted it.

Cable closed his eyes, and if it were anyone else, Wade would say he was close to crying, or screaming.  Nate whispered, “Can't you see?  It’s broken.  It's all broken.  But it doesn’t have to be.” He flinched, blood starting trickle from his nose, his mouth, his ears. His eyes rolled back until it was just the broken blood vessels and the white, his back arching in a pained curve. “I—I have to.”

Floundering with the air like he was treading water, Wade strained for Nate, to shake him or strangle him, he wasn't really sure which. “Nate, stop.   _Stop_.”

“There are no absolutes,” Nate murmured senselessly.  Wade finally reached him, grabbed him by the shoulders and nearly snatched his fingers back; Nate was burning up.

“It will be better, Wade.  Just watch.  I will make everything better.”  Nate jerkily turned his head, and his eyes were full of kindness, earnest and warm when they didn't have any right to be. “Please… just watch.”

Wade made a low, conflicted sound, that sharp ache rising again, in his head, all around, everything around them going still.

He looked at Nate, and let the world go away.

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism welcomed.


End file.
